What are you scared of?
The other day, my heart palpitations woke me up earlier than I wanted. Being the person I am, I hate waking up earlier than scheduled; it makes my mornings intolerable, and I become irritated. This mixture doesn’t make for a pleasant day, but when the beating in your chest wakes you up, there is only little you can do. I hate sieving through my feelings, but the few times I do, I find little gems waiting for me. So, when I couldn’t force myself to go back to sleep, I questioned myself. I had one question with two responses. What I thought and what it was.
What are you afraid of?
When getting to know someone for the first time, you often ask them about their greatest fear. My answer has always been the same since time immemorial-abandonment. I’ve feared waking up one day to people abandoning me for as long as I can remember. A famous saying goes like this, “You attract what you fear the most?” I guess this is true. Because at every junction, people have decided to walk out or outrightly die on me, and there’s nothing I can do about that. So, why am I scared of something that has happened and would still happen? It only means I’m killing myself twice because the occurrence doesn’t make it hurt less.
So what is it?
My greatest fear is not being enough. Enough for who you might ask. And the answer is you. Not being enough to be the emotional support my friends need when they’re going through a trying time. Not being the senior brother my siblings brag about to their friends. I want to be the brother who is always there to save the day. Failing to be the person your parent can always rely on sucks. I don’t want you to come to me, and I have nothing to offer. I always want to be enough for the people I love. And here is the climax; I nurse the thought that if I’m not enough, eventually, people will leave.
I wake up with heart palpitations, and I ask myself what are you afraid of? The answer is simply being immeasurable to the people I love the most. The person in the friend group that no one would notice when he’s gone. The guy who does not spark a light in the room when he’s with family. That lover you fail to remember because the time you spent together was mundane. To live a bland life where you’re unimportant to anyone, just another spade in a deck of cards. It is like Tuesday, the day no one looks forward to. I ask myself, if I cease to exist today, how long would it take for the memory of me to fade from people’s minds? If life was like Coco, who would hang my picture for Día de los Muertos?
Is this why I wake up panicking? Or is there something else I’m not dealing with? I guess when I sleep tonight, I’ll find out in the morning.
